This is a place (a sanctuary, if you will) for women to vent about the latest idiotic thing the men in their lives have done. Please feel free to comment with your man's recent or past moronic behavior for all to read.
Hopefully by sharing our woes and discovering that maybe there are stupider men on the planet than our boyfriend / husband / brother / dad / friend / co-worker / whatever, we will find the ultimate peace. Or at least get a laugh!

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

It's been awhile. Yeah, so what. I've been busy. Get over it.

I felt compelled to write this morning, because, well... it was just time. And of course my life is filled with fodder for this blog. There is no shortage of men who do the damnedest things.

So my mornings are crazy, like any working mother's. Well any mother's to be honest. Herding children around in the morning, especially if you aren't a morning person, can be a daunting task. Every morning I have to:

drag kids out of bed (neither like to get up - I've heard rumors of "morning children" before, but I don't have them),

fix breakfast (they can never eat the same thing - one likes cereal, the other prefers pure carbs),

get them dressed (this can take up to 30 minutes depending on the diva's mood - she NEVER I repeat NEVER wants to wear any of the 3 outfits I've picked out for her and laid out on the toybox),

get their teeth brushed (thank God for kid flavored/cartoon character toothpaste -this part they actually like),

get their hair combed ("I don't WANT to wear pee-tails mommy!" - this is her word for pig tails and a pony tail mixed together - and "Aww mom, why do I have to wet my hair, I don't care what it looks like!)

get their stuff together (books, purse, bracelet, homework, snack, random item that is due in class, whichever particular fluffy toy she wants to take in the car for the ride to daycare - I finally put my foot down on taking it INSIDE daycare)

kiss Dad goodbye(after being told at least 8 times, but he appreciates it... I think)

get the kids INTO the car (it sounds so simple doesn't it?)

buckle everyone in (again, sounds like it wouldn't be trouble)

run back in for MY stuff (right, I know what you're thinking, at this point you're thinking "why bother?" - sometimes I feel the same way, but my cell phone and my work computer are somewhat important to me)

get the kids to daycare (NO LATER than 7:35am so the school kid can catch the van to elementary school and the diva can have her second breakfast with her classmates - no I'm not kidding)

and get to work at a decent time (this is usually around 8:15am which to me is pretty darn good).

(SIGH)

HIS duty is to pick them up. Which consists of:

picking them up from daycare, and

bringing them home.

Yeah, that's it. He usually arrives at home at the same time I do.

So finally, I put my foot down. After all of the blood, sweat, tears, spilled cereal, hair that I didn't have time to blow dry and screaming fits of rage (inwardly, because I AM a good mom after all), I insisted he take morning duty at least once a week. We decided on Wednesdays, because generally he can play a round of golf with a friend on Wednesdays and I agreed to pick the kids up on the day he drops them off. That way he doesn't have to rush his game. (Yeah, I don't really care but it sounded thoughtful, right?)

The first Wednesday came and went. He had to be at work early, so he swapped days to Friday. Then on Friday he turned off the alarm clock (as in OFF not snooze) and we all jumped out of bed at 7am and started running around like crazy people. We were all late.

So this Wednesday was the first "real" test. The alarm clock went off at 6:30am (I usually have it set for 5:45). I jumped out of bed and got into the shower (trying to avoid any children or whining - from the husband and because I needed to wash my hair - oh the joy of actually having time to fully blow dry my hair). I proceed to shower and pick out clothes. Finally at 7am I nudge his foot.

"Ummmm if you want to catch the daycare van you might want to start moving" (I am too nice, I know). He peels himself out of bed and starts trudging around the house. Everything appears to be going smoothly.

I walk out to get my pants out of the dryer (this is my idea of an iron) and notice that both children are playing with their food, as in rubbing the icing from a honeybun on the seat cushion. Whatever. I keep moving.

Next I'm towel drying my hair when my son walks in. "Hey mom. I need a hair cut tonight." "Umm okay." "I'm tired of having to wet my hair." "Okay." ...... "Anything else?" "No." "Okay then you can go. Mommy's trying to get dressed." (forlorn look on his face, he drags his feet all the way out of the bathroom)

On to blow drying. Dad shows up with the little princess close behind. "Hey, she says her hiney hurts." "What?" "She says her hiney hurts." (pause for blank stare) "Okay. So....??" "I dunno I just thought I should tell you in case it's something serious." "Like what?" "Whatever I just thought I should tell you, so you could keep and eye on it." Oooookay.

Finally I hear them packing up. He's gotten them out of the door. He comes back in to grab his stuff (did I mention earlier he's called me neurotic because I come back inside so many times to get the stuff I forgot?). At this point I say, "Did you remember to pack a snack for the kid?" "Huh?" "Where is his book bag?" "I dunno." (sigh) "Were you going to let them say goodbye to me?" "You'll see them later."

He leaves at 7:35am on the dot. I secretly hope he missed the van to school.

Either way, i actually got to work at 8am and had time to get a cup of coffee, update facebook, and start this post while waiting for my computer to wake up. :o)